


Fantasy

by terma_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-04-01
Updated: 2000-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terma_archivist/pseuds/terma_archivist
Summary: Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atTER/MAand was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address onthe TER/MA collection profile.TER/MA April 2000 Challenge. This month's challenge is from Isayeva: There are many stories where it is mentioned, if only in passing, that Ratboy spent time in the past working as a prostitute/rent-boy/general purveyor of sexual favours. However, I have encountered very few where he is still doing it when the story takes place. I can see in this much opportunity for all the angst, pain and suffering we like to expose the boys to. So that's my offering. A story, set anywhere, anytime; post-Terma, Hong Kong, (even Sleepless if you have the ingenuity) etc., where Krycek is whoring and is discovered by Mulder.
Relationships: Alex Krycek/Richard "Ringo" Langly
Collections: TER/MA





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alicettlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [TER/MA](https://fanlore.org/wiki/TER/MA) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [the TER/MA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/terma/profile).  
> TER/MA April 2000 Challenge. This month's challenge is from Isayeva: There are many stories where it is mentioned, if only in passing, that Ratboy spent time in the past working as a prostitute/rent-boy/general purveyor of sexual favours. However, I have encountered very few where he is still doing it when the story takes place. I can see in this much opportunity for all the angst, pain and suffering we like to expose the boys to. So that's my offering. A story, set anywhere, anytime; post-Terma, Hong Kong, (even Sleepless if you have the ingenuity) etc., where Krycek is whoring and is discovered by Mulder.

  


**Fantasy  
by Sebastian**

  
The last crumb of pizza had gone, and more than a few beers had been drunk before Mulder broached the subject again. 

"C'mon, Frohike. What's with all the mysterious hints you were dropping earlier?" 

Byers turned to the little man reprovingly. "Haven't you got any shame? I told you not to tell anyone. It was a reprehensible thing to do in the first place, don't exacerbate it by making it public, please." 

"Hey, lighten up. Mulder's hardly the public. He's our friend, he ought to be in on the joke. Y'know he won't say a word to Langly." 

And where was Langly? There was indeed a gap in the Gunmen's ranks. Langly's sister, the one that lived on a hippy commune in Colorado, had demanded he visit for a few days to celebrate his birthday with, as she put it, "A good oldfashioned love-in". Muttering darkly, he'd reluctantly agreed to go. 

"Remember a few months ago when we sneaked a look at Langly's diary, Mulder?" asked Frohike. 

Byers glowered at him and interjected, "Of course he doesn't, because I persuaded you not to show him. And you mustn't show him the tape either." 

Something interesting was definitely in the air. Mulder sidled along the couch, right up to Frohike, and said cajolingly, "Ignore him, he's just a party pooper. C'mon, give. What're you going to show me?" 

"Well, Byers and I read Langly's secret diary." He began, in an intimate voice. 

"Humph." grunted the other Gunman. "You read it, I had to endure your recitation of the more salacious passages." 

"Y'know, it's real traditional. Paper, pen, 'Dear Diary', keeps it under his mattress. Kinda sweet really. It's in code, but that was childishly simple to crack." 

"Jeez, I gotta see this." said Mulder eagerly, his eyes lighting. 

"He took it with him." said Byers flatly. "Frohike already checked." 

"Aww." 

"But that's not what I want you to see. The point is, it was full of his sex fantasies. In _great_ detail. And I mean _great_... some of them were really _hot_." 

"They are private." interrupted Byers angrily. "It was despicable of you to read them." 

"Shut up, Byers." shouted the other two in unison. Byers frowned and subsided into a disapproving silence. 

"Was I in there?" inquired Mulder. 

"Only in passing." 

This was disappointing. Mulder liked to occupy centre stage in the lives of all who knew him, and was not too proud to include the sex-lives of skinny straggle-haired geeks in that category. Less keenly, he prompted, "So who was?" 

"Numero Uno position went to Gene Simmons." 

"The guy from 'Kiss'? All black and white make-up and the longest tongue you'd see on anything other than an anteater?" 

"That's the one. That tongue featured heavily by the way. You couldn't _imagine_ what Langly wanted him to do with it." 

Oh yes, I could, thought Mulder, flushing. 

"Frohike decided to make his dreams come true for a birthday treat." 

"You got him a date with Gene Simmons?" whispered Mulder, awed. Wow, he had faith in the Gunmen's abilities to perform miracles, but this was something else. 

"I decided not to." replied Frohike. "I thought the make-up might come off while they were getting it on and spoil the illusion. We went for his second choice, instead. Batman." 

"George Clooney, Val Kilmer... ?" 

Frohike gave him an odd look. "Just 'Batman'. The one with the cape and the Batmobile. We hired him a Batman." 

Realisation dawned. "You got him a lookalike. Kiss-o-gram sorta thing. I see." 

"Shit, Mulder, you didn't think I meant the real thing? How much d'ya think it would cost to rent George Clooney to fuck Langly?" 

"Not much, before he was in ER, I suspect." They all took a moment to contemplate an opportunity, forever lost. 

Frohike rummaged amongst an untidy heap of periodicals stacked on the floor, and passed Mulder a folded newspaper with an ad circled in red highlighter. 

"FANTASY FUCKS" it read. "The man of your dreams is just a phone-call away! Ever wanted to go down on the President? Feel the Force with Darth Vader? Spend a night of romance and poetry with William Shakespeare? Or maybe exercise the springs on that famous couch with Homer Simpson? Make it all come true! Gay Men only. All major credit cards accepted. Call toll-free 0800-WET DREAMS." 

"So, was it expensive? Was the guy good? And how the hell did you persuade Langly to go for it." 

"That's a yes, and a yes, and Frohike drugged him." answered Byers, contriving to look even more censorious. 

"Oh, c'mon, it was only the teeniest dose of Rohipnol. Just enough to relax him and make him suggestible. We told him we were going to a fancy dress party at a hotel. We took him to a bedroom to get changed—he was supposed to be Robin, part of the fantasy, y'see—and we slipped out while he was in the bathroom." 

"Mr. Porno here had set up a secret camera to record the proceedings. I didn't find out about that 'til later." 

"Just wanted to make sure we got our money's worth." said Frohike, virtuously. "Wanna see?" 

"Me? Dirty video? What do you think?" 

"Hmm." grinned Frohike, slipping the tape in the machine. 

For a couple of minutes the hotel room was empty, then Langly wandered in, wearing only a pair of boxers, in lurid shades of purple, on his thin frame. 

"We'd told him we'd see him in the foyer in ten minutes." hissed Frohike. 

Tipping the contents of a bag onto the bed, he dressed himself in the colourful 'Robin' costume it contained. The tight lycra outfit did little for his figure, but he seemed to be satisfied, though it was obvious he was torn between wearing his glasses over his face mask, or forgoing them for the sake of verisimilitude and condemning himself to blurred vision. 

Suddenly the curtains rustled. Langly span round, a startled expression on his face. Climbing through the window was a muscular, black-clad man, his elegant cloak swirling from his shoulders and his sculpted mask drawing the eye to his beautiful mouth and firm chin. Batman, silent as a shadow, an ebon panther stalking his prey, swept over to the frozen and dumb-struck Robin. 

"My Robin," he growled, in a husky voice that sent shivers down Mulder's spine, "they said you'd be waiting here for me." 

Enveloping the other man in his cape, he pulled him close and took his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Langly moaned and slumped in his arms. 

"My God," whispered Mulder, "has he fainted?" 

"No—shush—it gets better." 

Pulling away from Langly, the man hitched his cloak back over his shoulders, affording the watchers a clear view of his perfect body... every muscle, every movement, emphasised by the skin of black latex that enclosed it. He took Langly's hands, and pulled off the green gauntlets by teasing each finger with his teeth until his hands were freed. He placed Langly's naked palms on his torso, and encouraged him to smooth them over the silky rubber. Already Langly's mouth was slack, his breath coming in short gasps, and the Robin outfit did nothing to conceal the erection tenting his groin. 

As they caressed, as Batman slowly unclothed his partner, murmuring endearments, scattering kisses on his neck and shoulders, Mulder grew uneasy about the black-clad man. There was something familiar in the way he moved, in his voice, and as the figure turned to the camera, giving Mulder a longer view of his face, it clicked. 

Batman was Alex Krycek. 

The Gunmen obviously hadn't recognised him, but Mulder was sure. What the hell was going on? What devilish trick was the Rat-bastard pulling now? He glanced at the others. Frohike was rapt, and, despite his protests, so was Byers. They'd seen this before, and seemed unconcerned, so presumably nothing bad would happen to Langly. He sat back to enjoy the entertainment. 

But for his mask and green boots, Langly was now nude. His cock, nestling in sparse golden hairs, was leaving silver trails of pre-come on Batman's sleek clothing as he was fondled and kneaded, his flesh starkly white against the spurred black gloves. Batman sank to his knees, his supple cloak pooling around him, and sucked Langly's shaft right into his mouth. The other man groaned and writhed, working the stiff little ears on the top of Batman's head with his fingers. 

Batman looked up. "I want to love you properly, Robin." he sighed huskily. "I want to possess you, to be inside you. Do you want that too?" 

"Yes, Batman, yes." Langly croaked, the first coherent words he had spoken since the start of the tape. 

Batman stood, and placed Langly's hands on the moulded codpiece that covered his genitals. "Free me, my Robin. See how much I desire you." 

After some fiddling, Langly worked out the fastenings and removed the stiff shield. Batman's cock sprang out, impressive in its length and width, frighteningly organic against the abstract artifice of the superhero costume. 

"Holy hard-on, Batman." declared Robin, reverently, finally recalling who he was meant to be. 

Batman grinned. "Just a little preparation with some items from my utility belt and I'll be ready for action, Robin. Jump in the Batmobile and get set for the ride of your life." 

As Langly pulled off his boots and scrambled onto the bed, a translucent black condom was rolled onto the Batprick and lubricated. Then, with a swirl of his cloak, he swooped onto Robin and tenderly kissed his lips. 

"Jeez, why did Langly pick himself a superhero that wears a cape?" grumbled Mulder, for the next few minutes of love-making could only be guessed at by observing the motions occurring under the inky cloth. Eventually a steady rocking was established, inching the cloak to one side, until it eventually slid off Batman's back and restored their view of the couple. Batman was obviously fully in possession of his Robin, because Langly was doubled up on his back, legs drawn up, and Batman was resting between them, his rubber-sheathed ass undulating as he pleasured his partner. 

Langly was far too aroused for more role-playing, only a steady chorus of moans and grunts issued from his lips, and what could be seen of his skin was tinged a delicate shade of pink and sheened with sweat. The effort of fucking in a rubber costume was all too evident from Batman's face, which was nearly scarlet, and a steady drip of moisture fell from his chin onto Langly's stomach. Mulder wondered how it would feel to make love totally encased in a waterproof suit, and mentally put it on his 'to do' list. 

Now the crescendo of the performance was fast approaching. The superhero's powerful thrusts were shaking the bed, the jerky motion of the arm that was trapped between him and his slighter partner an indication that Robin's cock had found a sheath in Batman's fist. With a final heave and twist of his hips, Batman sent them both over the edge. Langly threshed wildly, and with a piercing shriek, passed out cold. 

Withdrawing from the unconscious man, Batman cleaned himself on the discarded Robin outfit, and quickly redressed, leaving the room conventionally, by the door. 

At this point the screen blanked. "Langly was fine, in case you were worrying, Mulder." said Byers. "Frohike had another drugged drink waiting for him when he came round, in case he got hysterical. But, thank God, he didn't need to use it, because Langly woke up, really groggy, about five minutes after Batman left, and by the time we got him home he was asleep. We reckon he thinks it was all a dream." 

"Jes-us, that was really something else, guys. You have got a note of when my birthday is, _haven't_ you. Excuse me, I gotta go to the bathroom." 

Mulder walked stiffly from the room, his progress followed by a sniggering Frohike and a disdainful Byers. Slumped on the toilet, his pants bunched round his knees, painfully erect prick in hand, Mulder replayed the tape in his mind. Two important actions required his attention. Firstly, put the image of Krycek's body, sheathed in black latex, right at the top of his "Jerk-off Fantasies Hall of Fame." That could be taken care of right now. Secondly, dial 0800-WET DREAMS. Mulder decided to postpone that one 'til the morning. 

* * *

Title: Fantasy   
Author: Sebastian   
Website: <http://www.geocities.com/aderil>   
Series/Fandom: X-Files   
Pairing: K/Langly   
Rating: NC17   
Archive: Yes   
Feedback email: [email removed]   
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 productions and Fox. No copyright infringement is intended.   
Notes: A story for the RatB April challenge. You asked for angst, I give you a cartoon. This is complete, but I had a couple of follow-ups planned.   
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